COTTONMOUTH: Be the loyal son and do your chores.

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You slump, this swordplay had started to feel stupid anyways. Chances are these chores are the best you can hope to look forward to, milking cows and feeding chickens. No damsels in distress, no Dragons of the Falgoon Mountains. A normal life.

You sit on your milking stool, udder in hand pumping away into a wooden bucket. You wipe your brow, eyes glazed with boredom.

"I didn't actually expect to find you in here." Says a voice behind you, turning to find your brother

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